


A War Worth Fighting For

by Evaline_Auguste



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, dunno yet, i don't know if I'm going to put in canon characters, i saw this on a tumblr post so why not?, i'll probably give like links and stuff for FCs, idk - Freeform, just read please, mostly OCs, not a canon character, only it'll be my character, or you'll have invision their faces, this is my own work - Freeform, took forever to make everything for this, uhhh possible main character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-23 20:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15614109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaline_Auguste/pseuds/Evaline_Auguste
Summary: Marshall wishes for death. He wishes someone would yank his heart out and squish it to a pulp. He wishes he could stand in the sun and suffer through the torturous burn until he turns to ash. But he can't because of a promise he made to his best friend. To protect his family. For the last century, he's done nothing but protect Albert's entire family along with his own. It's been a smooth run until an old enemy returns for vengeance on Marshall -- his sire.(This is in The Vampire Diaries and The Originals universe but I don't know if I'm going to have anyone canon in here.)





	1. Prologue

_Even after sixty years, it doesn’t get easier._

_Even after fighting in both World War II and the Vietnam War, it doesn’t get easier._

_Even after living for a century, it doesn’t get easier._

_It becomes bearable._

_The nightmares become bearable. If I manage to sleep._

_The flashbacks become bearable. If I manage to stay sober._

_This life isn’t as glorious as the movies and books make it seem._

_We don’t sparkle in the sun, we burn and turn to ash._

_We’re not invisible in the mirrors or pictures, we just can’t stand the sight of ourselves._

_We aren’t scared of the cross, we’re scared of God’s punishment for cheating his way._

_Why don’t I just throw myself in the sun and end it all? Why do I put myself through this endless torture? Why do I continue on?_

_Because of my best friend._

_Albert._


	2. Chapter 2

Marshall parks his 1967 Chevy Impala in front of Lincoln High School. He’s been bringing and picking up Jeremy and Colin to school this last week since Jeremy decided to act reckless and bump into a stop sign. He doesn’t mind. Not like he has anything better to do with his life.

It’s nice being out when the weather is below seventy degrees. Fall and winter are Marshall’s favorite time of the year. Not a whole lot of sun. A whole lot of snow. And it’s so fucking cold. He absolutely hates the heat. Even with the help of his Daylight ring, the sun and heat are wretched things. At least in his opinion. Mortals who love the sun are psychotic.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” the man warns, watching Jeremy exit the car through his sunglasses. Collin climbs out from the back to get the hell away from these two.

Jeremy peeks back into the car toward Marshall, blue eyes sparkling in mischief. “When do I do anything stupid?”

Marshall just raises a dark brow, silently doubting him.

“Okay, okay. I won’t.” He rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you say anything to Collin?”

“Because Collin isn’t an idiot like you can be sometimes,” he responds, voice plain. His fingers clench around the wheel, almost flexing them.

The boy scoffs and playfully slaps a hand on his chest. “I am wounded.”

“I’m about to wound you in the minute if you don’t hurry up and get inside.” At that, Marshall chomps his teeth, showing off his fangs.

“Yeah, I doubt it. Later.” Jeremy gives a bright smile before closing the door and walking off toward the school.

Marshall takes a second to sink his fangs back in and breathe then drives off back to his apartment. Now that the kids weren’t in the car, he could drink without either of them both silently and verbally judging him. Even with his flask out wide in the open, the cops don’t even bother anymore to stop him. More like they don’t exactly have a choice. Compulsion used at its best.

No one really pays attention to him anymore. There will be the occasional person that will give him the light of day but that’s only if they don’t know him too well. All of the old folk know what he is and to be honest, he doesn’t give a damn. He doesn’t hurt them, never fed off them, so there’s nothing wrong he’s really doing. Except existing. Marshall isn’t like other vampires in the world.

He’s been all around the world. After the second World War, even after making that oath, Marshall ran all across the world to drown himself from the pain he felt. It’s true what people say about new vampires. They’re overly emotional and sensitive. But that’s not at all what he wanted to think about at the moment.

Sure newborns are sensitive but so are the old ass vampires. Like the Originals? He’s only met one of them and her emotions ran all over the place. Sometimes the old ones don’t give a damn and don’t care who they hurt or what they leave behind. Marshall tries to stay away from that kind. They’re only around to bring hell to the world. Not something he’s into.

A horn interrupts his thoughts, signaling the light turned green. The car jerks forward and down the road, almost arriving at its destination.

Marshall’s apartment isn’t far from Jeremy’s family’s house. He made sure of it. Truthfully, he hardly ever uses his car unless he’s carrying more people or going somewhere far. Other than that, it was a little useless to drive and make the air worse. Call him a hippie or whatever, he doesn’t give a damn.

As he comes to his apartment, Marsh notices the door unlocked. He slowly enters, gently pushing the door open to make his entrance as quiet as possible. Nothing seems out of place and or smells off. There’s no gross dog smell so it can’t be a wolf. No heartbeat for it to be a witch.

He creeps into the living room and scans his surroundings with a furrowed brow. As he’s about to turn to his bedroom, something crashes on top of him at forced speed. Him and the object collapse to the floor. Marshall almost loses it until he hears a soft laugh.

“Gotcha!”

His emerald green eyes turn up and catch a beautiful girl straddling his hips above him. Karen always appears beautiful to him. Always has and always will. Her hair is a delicate brown and each time his fingers run through it, he’s only ever felt silk. It’s such a cliché thing to say, especially to him, but her eyes mimic the sky. And not just the clear blue sky in the middle of a summer day. Like that time of day around sunset. The blue painting the sky between the night sky and sunset colors. Such a lovely shade. He could sit and count the freckles on her cheeks and nose for hours and never get disinterested. Even her nose was cute to him.

Though he’s never given much feedback to Karen concerning his feelings. Most of the time, he completely shuts his emotions off. Like a switch.

He can spare a fraction of feeling at the moment.

The corners of Marshall’s lips tug into a small smile, watching her face brighten in excitement. “Seems like you did."

“I think the unlocked door got you,” she starts, brushing a piece of hair behind an ear. “Got you guessing and put you off guard.”

“Yeah, but I could have hurt you,” he counters, raising his brow.

Karen waves it off. “I would have been fine. I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can.” He goes to sit up but Karen sets a hand on his chest, forcefully pushing him back down into the hardwood floor.

She smirks teasingly. It’s something she does. Likes to mess around and have fun with Marshall. It isn’t anything new to either of them. “Can’t get up?”

Marshall smirks back and in a blur, flips the both of them over to have him over her. His calloused hands wrap around her fragile ones and pin them down. “I think I can, my dear.” He plants a soft kiss on her forehead before standing and helping Karen up to her feet.

Karen subtly skips over to the black leather, Tuxedo couch and flops down, spreading her arms across the back and crossing her legs. Most of the time, she tends to wear loose skirts or dresses that fall to the knees but today she’s wearing thin jeans and a flannel. A little odd but not questionable enough.

He, however, doesn’t own any sort of bright clothing. It’s mostly black, grey, or dark colors like blue, green, and red. His attire mostly consists of semi-formal pieces but sometimes he goes full-on casual jeans and t-shirt. Just depends on the day.

Marshall places himself in the black leather club chair near the couch, crossing one ankle on the opposite knee. “Is there something you needed, Karen?”

“I can’t come over just because I can?”

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

She sighs. “Fiiiine. Well, first of all, I brought you some more blood. It was going to go bad in the next week or two so might as well but it to good use.”

“Oh.” He pauses. This isn’t anything new. Karen does this a lot since she works at the local hospital as a nurse. It was just different from her to just bring it instead of calling him.

“But I noticed your fridge doesn’t look like you’ve hardly put a dent in it.”

At that, he simply shrugs. “I’m not focused on eating. Got more important things to worry about.”

Karen raises a brow. “Doing what? Taking those kids to school and babysitting?”

“Hey,” he sharply starts. “You know why I spend time with them. Enough about it. Final.”

She doesn’t say anything at first. Of course, she knows. Marshall has told her a sufficient amount of times the reason behind staying around Jeremy and his family. Yet she still questions it. “Alright fine. Besides that, I have news.”

Marshall rests back in the chair and pinches the bridge of his nose. A headache is starting to form. “Just tell me already.”

“Marissa is in town,” she immediately responds, turning her eyes down.

His stomach churns in knots and heart clenches. A moment of silence falls between them before Marshall reacts. He dashes forward toward her, one hand gripping the arm of the couch. “When did you find out about this?”

Karen jumps a bit but instantly relaxes. She’s never been scared of Marshall but his sudden rush startled her. “Last night. I don’t know where she is. I only saw her in the hospital, talking to one of the doctors. I was only able to watch for a few seconds before she disappeared.”

Marshall pushes himself off from the arm and wipes a hand across his face. “Why didn’t you come to me last night?”

“Because you weren’t here when I came by. I just guessed you were at the Morgan’s house.”

 _It’s true. I stayed the night there last night_.

Now his headache has turned into a migraine. “Don’t go anywhere near her. Got it? I don’t know what she’s doing here all of the sudden so she’s dangerous.”

“But Marshall--”

“Karen,” he snaps, glaring at her, “I mean it. I don’t know what she wants. If she wants to hurt me, then she’ll go for what I care about. You know this.”

She bites her bottom lip, turning those bright eyes down to her lap.

The last time Marissa came around, she used Karen against Marshall. They were lucky that Karen lived through it. He couldn’t let that happen again. After everything, he couldn’t lose Karen. Marshall takes a deep breath, sighing it out slowly. “Please, Kare. Just listen to me.”

For half a minute, it’s silent until she responds with a nod and says, “Alright. I promise I won’t go around her.”

He sighs in relief, a weight lifted off his shoulders. “Thank you.” A hand rests on her cheek, kissing the opposite side.

After losing Albert, Karen is his only friend. Without her, he doesn’t think he can keep his oath to his deceased best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I understand that it was a bad place to end but I am seriously so bad at endings so that was the best I got. further, in the story, I'll get better. I usually do


	3. Alpha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some 1930's slang sprinkled in here and there. 
> 
> whacky = crazy or nuts  
> juicy = enjoyable  
> Murder! = Wow!  
> eggs in coffee = run smoothly  
> Chicago overcoat = coffin

_“Marshall!”_

_He turns from the kitchen stove, seeing his sister closing the front door. Setting the wooden spoon down, he goes to ask what is wrong but she interrupts him._

_Layla hangs her jacket on the coat rack and kicks her shoes off nearby. She hurries over with a paper napkin in her hands. “Look!” she exclaims, handing him the napkin._

_Marshall curiously takes it and reads over the words: ‘Diner at 7?’ His eyebrows shoot up to his hair. “Is this from Noah?”_

_She nods, long, dark curls bouncing up and down. “Yes! He wants to go to the diner. For a date!”_

_He chuckles and hands the napkin back to her. “Then you should go. I’ll tell Mom and Dad you’re out with Brenda.”_

_“Really?!” Layla wraps her arms around her older brother in an embrace. “You’re the best brother a sister could have.”_

_“Well thank you,” he says in a teasing manner, returning the gesture. Marshall carefully pries himself from her hug. “Here, I have an idea.” He takes the napkin again and folds it just under the words, facing the folded part toward her. “Leave an answer and I’ll go take it to him.”_

_At first, she doesn’t understand what he means then gasps in realization. She carefully presses her lips onto the fold, leaving a bright red lipstick stain. “That good?”_

_He nods. “He’ll go whacky and keep it forever. Trust me. Guys like that kind of stuff.” After carefully sliding the paper in his pocket, he switches the stove off and heads for the coat rack to pull on his jacket. “You go get ready. You’ve got a little over a half hour.” He watches his sister nod again and_ race _up the stairs._

_Marshall steps into the pair of nice dress shoes he left there when he returned home from work before leaving through the front door. He knows where Noah lives, strangely enough, and it was only a street down. Not too long of a walk._

_This road is always peaceful. Not a lot of drama. Of course, there is the occasional family drama but high-class families deal with it all the time. Some man cheating on his wife. A woman getting turned down on a modeling job. A man getting wrinkles and stressing about if he’ll get the acting job. New pregnancy. So much drama but he can’t complain exactly._

_Working class folk have it so much worse. They wish they had his problems. He has to remind himself of that sometimes. His best friend is of the working class and he tells him of all the troubles at working in the factory. Marshall has actually taken Albert to the hospital a few times because of injuries at work, Marshall paying the cheap medical bills much to Albert’s displease._

_It was never an issue, really. Helping Albert. If he needed to eat, Marshall would take him out to dinner. If he needed clothes, Marshall would take him to the strip mall. If his parents or he couldn’t pay for a water bill, Marshall would pay for it without blinking._

_Marshall’s parents love having Albert around though sometimes they didn’t understand that he was a friend and not an employee. They ask him to mow the yard or wash their cars or clean out the gutters, of course paying him afterward a very good amount of money. More than what they’re actual housekeepers get paid, to be frank. It ticks Marshall off but Albert never seems to mind. To him, work is work, and work is money._ Money _he needs._

_Yes, they’re both from different classes but they’ve known each other ever since they were in first grade. How they met was at lunch. Marshall’s lunch bag had the perfect meal, ranging from a sub sandwich to the little cup of puddling for the end. However, Albert was only able to bring a simple ham sandwich and nothing more. He had rags for clothes, soft brown hair a wild mess even though it seems like he tried to tame it. The poor boy caught Marshall’s eye, easily offering him half of his lunch. Albert began to protest but stopped when the other tore the sub apart and scooted the apple juice closer to him. He decided to not argue and eat with Marshall._

_By the time Marshall’s train of thought ran off the rails, he’s arrived at Noah’s house. It’s not as nice as his own with his parents but it was still a high class looking living space. He reaches into his pocket and extracts the stained napkin as he strides up to the front door, giving a three-hit knock._

_Noah answers the door, slick hair a golden blonde and eyes as dark as mud. His clothes consist of semi-formal pieces, simple black pants, an olive green long sleeve, and black suspenders. It’s no surprise that Layla has feelings for him. “Marshall! Hey, what’re you doing here?”_

_Marshall holds out the napkin to the blonde with a smirk. “Here’s Layla’s answer. Better make this date juicy or I’ll be kicking your ass.”_

_The other takes the napkin and sees the lipstick, his smile reaching his eyes. “Murder! She actually said yes. I’ve got a date with Layla Patterson.” His mud eyes turn up to Marshall. “Don’t sweat it, Marsh. I’ll make sure this date is juicy and is like eggs in coffee.”_

_“Yeah, you better. I’ll be puttin’ you in a Chicago overcoat if you try any funny business.”_

_Noah suddenly grows nervous, letting out a chuckle. “Yeah, yeah. ‘Course, Marshall.”_

_“Cool.” He nods and makes his way down the stairs._

_“Oh, uh, what are her favorite flowers?” Noah shouts, holding onto the doorknob._

_Marshall calls out, “Daisies,” as he walks away and back down the street, returning to his house._

_People always say it takes a shorter amount of time to get back home than it is to get to your destination. Which seems to be the case now considering Marshall had barely any time to think before he was already walking through the front door._

_As he enters and slides his coat off, Marshall expected to see his sister running downstairs, demanding to ask what Noah said and how he reacted and what he was wearing. He expected to laugh at her yet answer every question he could. But this… is the last thing he expected._

_Albert sits on their nice sofa, dirty hands in his mop of brown hair and wearing the uniform his work provided for him. The hat he always wears rests in front of him on the coffee table with a piece of paper and an envelope. Next to him is Layla, her beautiful face churned with worry and concern, almost scared in a way. Her delicate hands smooth Albert’s shirt, rubbing his back for comfort._

_Marshall closes the door softly behind him, furrowing his brow at the two. He holds his coat in his hands, forgetting about the rack next to him. “What… what’s the matter?”_

_The two turn their eyes up to him, both holding fear. It’s Layla that picks the paper and envelope up between her fingers, showing him the front. She clears her throat and answers softly, “Albert was drafted.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be doing a switch off on each chapter or every other chapter. One or two will be present time while one will be a flashback chapter. I thought I might as well give the full experience to Marshall's past.


End file.
